


What little love is made of

by JanuaryBlue



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Amaurot (Final Fantasy XIV), Amaurotine Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Dom/sub Undertones, F/M, Fluff, Oral Sex, Other, Somnophilia, Teasing, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:22:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22707679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JanuaryBlue/pseuds/JanuaryBlue
Summary: The esteemed Emet-Selch sleeps in.You decide to take some initiative.
Relationships: Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch/Reader, Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch/Warrior of Light
Comments: 15
Kudos: 97
Collections: Valentine's Fic Exchange 2020





	What little love is made of

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shoutz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shoutz/gifts).



> Fluff for the server's treasured pink fluffball ;)

You know he’s mentioned it several times before; the element of surprise, of spontaneity, is important in relationships to keep things fresh and interesting for everyone involved.

Emet-Selch certainly does his part, surprising you with little things, making time outside the office. Speaking of you to friends and colleagues alike, praising you freely and making his opinion known.

If it hadn’t been an opinion most everyone felt moved to agree with, if talking about you hadn’t so clearly and obviously elevated his mood to everyone he spoke to, if his compliments were not plainly rooted in pure and honest regard and respect for your abilities – people might even think he _flattered_ you.

After enough time, even Lahabrea had begrudgingly admitted; Emet-Selch does love you, dearly, deeply… and with a depravity few outside your tiny circle of friends were aware of.

Although this fantasy he’d held called for more debauchery on your part than on his; the ravishing of an innocent sleeper, touching and groping and mayhap even guiding him towards release while he slept. Lecherous, but nothing too extreme, compared to other things you have done.

Still, you are a bit nervous. Nervous… and perhaps a touch excited. Sleeping next to you as he is now, your Emet-Selch looks every bit the angel – of truth, or otherwise. White hair strewn over a pale face like liquid moonlight, the shadows and lines of his cheeks soft in the morning glow. No one would see through the windows as high up as you were, but it did add a certain element of… openness to it all.

And your Hades does _love_ to open –

You shake your head. Goodness, now you’d started thinking like that in your own mind. What use is it to say things like that unless they are out loud for him to hear?

Raising your voice right now might wake him up – quite opposite the point.

You prop yourself up by an arm, slowly shifting the blankets back, as much as can be allowed without him coming to shiver. His reactions guide you through each movement, each little shift – his breath, the little stirs, the tension invisible in a sleeping body lax against the bed.

Good of him, to sleep on his back like this for you, without his shirt. Letting you see his whole face, the pale expanse of his chest, his shoulders, thin limbs and almost frail, bony musculature casting harsh angles from the window’s even light. All out on display for you, down to the slow rise and fall of his chest. Good boy.

Such a shame you can’t tell him, now. Maybe you’ll wait for him to wake up.

It’s a good thing he’s used to having your hands on him, your limbs twined with his while you sleep – he’d had an arm around you, himself, before – and doesn’t even faintly stir when you reach out to him. Trailing hands down his chest as you laid beside him, feeling the warm rise of his chest against your hands, supple skin just barely lifting up into your touch.

You take a moment just to feel him, lean in to listen to the faint sound of air passing through his nose. So soft you can barely hear it. Still asleep, then.

Down and down your hand trails, slowly – both to savor bared flesh and to avoid rousing him from his sleep.

Conjuring some sweet, sticky fluid to coat your hands is child’s play. A concept that he’d presented you with a vastly entertaining display of hesitance and shy suggestion. The perfect consistency for you to favor it as lubricant – and flavored exactly to your tastes, as well, with a delightful aroma that he knew would please you.

Over and over, you discover new depths to his devotion. Your Hades, who cannot seem to undertake one single task without your comfort and pleasure in mind. Who would not stop singing your praises, directly into your lips, into your –

Well. Time to get to work, no?

Fingers dip beneath his waistband to find just the growing hardness you had expected. Whatever could he be dreaming about? You’ll have to remember to ask him when he wakes up. Perhaps you’ll even be fortunate enough to see his face turn red as he licks his lips and stammers out his little fantasy, all while denying any hint of embarrassment.

A breathy whisper interrupts your line of thought, barely coherent enough to be understood, warped with growing lust, “More…”

Like a child caught at a stash of treats you freeze still, hand wrapped around his cock. At the sight of him stilling to your touch, stirring, breath curling in that pale body as he shifts imperceptibly – and then returns to rest.

 _More,_ he says, and you stop immediately. It almost brings a smile to your face to think of; by now he knew well your obstinate nature. Knew _exactly_ what to expect of you. Anyways intentional, always playing, your sweet Emet-Selch. Taunting you into taunting him, tugging you along all while bemoaning how you dragged him, blushing coyly even as he suggested the most _interesting_ new things for you to try together.

And yet… with him laid out like this, prone, vulnerable and so very very _easy_ to touch, to hold, to squeeze and kiss. He had made clear you were to do anything you pleased with him, to give him any sort of sensation you pleased, all the more fuel for his sleeping mind.

You’d agreed, on the condition he’d tell you all about it when he woke up.

And still, you feel like you’re ravishing him. Doing debauched, depraved things to this pure and beautiful creature, pale-skinned and bared to you. That bony frame almost delicate against his stark musculature, almost frail – fragile. Like he could fall apart in your hands. In your teeth.

But now is not the time for that. He’s asleep, after all, and he would sooner stay that way – if he wakes, the little fantasy will be broken, and you would have to wait a full day to try again. To speak nothing of how rare it was, for you to wake before him. 

“Ah… my,” Whatever endearment he’d meant for you dies on his lips at the feel of your hand closing around him.

There’s a shift, a tightening, a tenseness that runs throughout his body as you squeeze, dragging your hand along to the tip with the pressure. The heat of it is nearly searing but you can almost _feel_ it begin to twitch in your hand, throbbing away with a low, steadily racing heartbeat.

It’s a brief decision that has you darting down, holding his cock steadily in place for you to press your lips to it, just tasting at the tip. He always did love these little kisses, the brush of your lips down his length. Opening your mouth just barely to dust flecks of wetness along it, the kind that made him shiver and tremble and whine when he was awake.

The kind that made him beg so very sweetly. He’s lucky, so very lucky, that you are so generous. More fortunate still that you bore quite easily, and normally can only stand to do it for just a bit before impatience takes hold. And in his sleep, he has need of neither of those things.

Just the sort of moment for you to take your time, keep him on edge – of wakefulness and of climax. You open wide only to pull back – run your tongue along him, taste the heat of his flesh. Breath hitting newly wetted skin, sending through him faint shivers you know well.

Murmured and soft on his lips, your name sounds, and in an instant you are undone; you open wide and dive down to consume him without regard for your earlier goal.

So you’re impatient. He’d never complained before. Although, you consider as you feel his cock fill your mouth, hot and slick and throbbing against your cheeks, it would be just like him, to complain even in his sleep. You go as slowly as you can, still, to not awaken him, but the way he twitches over your tongue lets you know you haven’t long to wait.

 _“Please…”_ It’s barely audible, but you would recognize the sound anywhere. You smile over him – he must know that sensation, too, even in the throes of sleep, for he gasps in a short breath in response.

Coaxing him along, swiping at his length with your tongue even as you bobbed up and down it, you pull him further, and further, until you learn he can moan _quite_ well in his sleep – if he still is. The taste of the lubricant, sweet and rich and reminding you distinctly of _him,_ coats your mouth, even as you suck it away.

A twitch, another twitch; he won’t be long now. You shift yourself into him, as deep as you dare, and purse your lips around him, sucking hard enough to have your mouth flush and tight against his length. Tongue wriggling along him as you pull back, applying constant pressure.

Before your lips close once more over his tip you dive back on, taking him back in, and licking at him with vigor, dragging your tongue over him as you move. It’s more than enough, you can tell, and you steady your arms about his straining hips to keep yourself in position.

His release fills your mouth, hot and cloying, with a sound that is just barely not a moan accompanying it. You can almost feel his hands in your hair, petting and brushing, and have to glance up to confirm that they aren’t really there.

Generously, you close your lips tight over him and wait, fluid pooling in your mouth until his climax is completed, heavier breaths shortening back into calm. There’s a twitch in his thighs when you swallow, sucking him clean as you slide off, leaving his cock bare to the air, desperately sensitive in the afterglow.

You lean back, satisfied with your work. Gazing over this beautiful creature you have so thoroughly debauched – his skin is flushed, a faint sheen of sweat coating him entirely. Limbs twitching ever so faintly, even in sleep. His lips are parted just barely for deeper, cooling breaths, and small utterances you can barely make out.

_“Love…”_

Even in his sleep. Oh, how you _do_ love him. You whisper his name back and you can tell – there’s a look on his face, a feeling in his body, in his aether, that’s completely unmistakable. That wave of warm familiarity, of hearing your name on your lover’s lips, of feeling their heat beside you.

He lays there, still, silent and motionless. Hmmm.

Now that he’s had his pleasure… it is only right that you claim yours, no?

You lay back, putting an intentional distance between the two of you. Spreading your thighs just enough to snake between them, spread your sex with one hand and stroke over it with another.

There’s no movement from your bedmate at all – a dead giveaway. Hades might sleep like the dead, but he still _breathes._ Perhaps when he awakes you’ll tease him for it. You can already imagine his indignant face, that feigned scowl as his voice chimes out, smooth and lilting _just for you…_

 _“Ah…”_ The sound escapes you easily, without your thinking. You can almost hear him perk up in attention.

For someone who so often liked to feign sleep to get Hythlodaeus and the like to _go away,_ Emet-Selch is shockingly terrible at pretending to be unconscious while you get yourself off. And you’re sure he actually means to fool you, too.

His reaction, the way the sheets tighten and his aether curls at your noises – it has you licking your lips in anticipation.

Tilting your head back, you press your hands further into your sex. Rubbing freely over your clit, letting the nerves spark away in electric stimulation, much needed touch that you had since been deprived of. Body alight, filling with warmth that begins to tug in your lower half, needy desire urging you to press harder, faster, _more._

There’s the slightest shift in the sheets next to you – such a naughty boy. Listening in like this. And he won’t even give you a hand.

That deserves some punishment, no?

It’s a bit agonizing to do to yourself, but you stroke your fingers along your folds anyways, leaving your clit unattended. Pressing into your flesh in the direction of the building pleasure – just barely stimulating, letting the urge grow, but straying away at the last moment.

If you listen hard after your soft, muted moan, you can hear his breath, perfectly controlled, far more stilted than it would be if he were asleep. He lays there, silent, hearing you please yourself and moan and chase your release and he’s doing nothing at all.

Carefully, you press more, drawing sharper, more prominent gasps from yourself. Softening each sound carefully, as though to avoid awakening your sleeping lover beside you.

You feel it cresting, but not quite building; arousal pools but you’ve yet to reach your peak. It seems to be the perfect moment.

“Ohhh,” Sighing freely, letting the air rush through your lungs unimpeded as you openly keened, “ _Ah…_ yes, yes! _”_

Beside you, a rustle.

“Oh, _Lahabrea-”_

“You!” An indignant voice fills the room immediately, breaking the moment right apart.

Laughter erupts from your mouth, full-hearted and deep. The heat you’d worked up in your lower half dissipates, slightly, and your hand pulls away as you try to stop your shoulders from shaking. The _esteemed_ Emet-Selch has thrown off the duvet entirely, rolling on top of you, arms caging you in like the predator you’re sure he’d like to pretend he is.

Irked, slightly bedraggled, and faintly flushed from your ministrations, he doesn’t manage _predator,_ not quite. He does, however, make an adorable lover. Ravished and teased and taunted to your heart’s content, stirred up into a frothing mess of desire and heated intent.

He looks up at you from on top of you, hovering just over your stomach with a fierce look in those eyes, glinting at you like firelight.

“Care to repeat that, love?” Emet-Selch hums like a dare, rumbling over your abdomen as he drags his face lower, lower.

What, does he think you _won’t?_ Still the feel of his mouth opening over your sex, wet and hot and enveloping tender, heated flesh – so much gentler than your own hands before. Indirect and smooth where your touch had been hard and fast, he swirls his tongue around your clit, sorely wanting for attention.

You only await a moment before responding, “Oh, _Laha- ah!”_

As ever, his lips steal your breath away.

**Author's Note:**

> A very Happy Valentine's Day to you, Shoutz! And all the other lovely friends from the Book Club! 
> 
> If you're interested in joining this group of writer vigilantes who posted like 20 gift fics at once - feel free to hop into our Discord and receive a warm welcome: https://discord.gg/Gc7hT2J When you do get in, you tell them who sent you, I'm always delighted to meet new friends ;) 
> 
> Hope you all enjoyed~


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